Conflict of the Heart
by KetchupFan77
Summary: "You have done that yourself..." Obi-Wan has at last come to confront his padawan on the wayward planet of Mustafar; but not all will go to plan...not when someone else has stowed away on Padme's cruiser. Must have been a crowded trip!


**Conflict of the Heart**

"Anakin," Padme sniffed, "You're breaking my heart!"

"You have done that yourself." Obi Wan interjected, "I know what it's like to fool oneself into thinking others have harmed you… when it is truly no one's fault but yours. You must learn, Padme…in sincerity, you will only find release, Padme, when you let go of the blame you harbor towards your husb—err… I mean young, handsome Anakin. Release this false ideology or join the Jedi. All other paths lead to Rome"

Shocked and by turns angered, then pleasantly surprised, Anakin nodded vigorously in agreement. His luxurious chocolate mane bounced on his shoulders, where his robes were stained with the blood of younglings.

Which reminded Padme… "He killed…younglings?!" she exclaimed, accusingly.

"He did that himself." Obi-Wan answered, again repeating a most notable phrase. He knew the next moments would be… delicate to say the least. He knew that great care was required when dealing with non-Jedi.

Suddenly, from the very same silver-chrome closet from whence Obi-Wan had sprung, came a virile and muscular figure…muscles bulging under the thin black tights…a shocking mane of white hair pulled back into a very trendy ponytail…with an eyepatch that Odin himself would have envied…came an ancient but hale and hearty warrior…Geralt of Rivia.

"Master Geralt!" Anakin exclaimed, his voice booming in a loud squeal that flooded the immediate vicinity. He smiled broadly, digging one of his feet into the sandy earth, "Though I'm overjoyed to see Yoda's old master return to the fold once more, I must venture to ask: How did you survive The Great Purge of 66?"

"He did that himself." Obi-wan reminded everyone, donning a sly grin as he contemplated his own witty remark.

Geralt's nose wrinkled. "A bit of salt, a bit of pepper…" he gestured to his own locks, which were of that elderly yet attractive coloring. He stepped forward with no little difficulty, considering the tights.

"But… the purge was so _inescapable."_ Anakin scratched the quarter-sized bald spot behind his left ear, "I find it hard to believe that all it took was _salt_ and _pepper_. Surely you must have found a portal to escape from that collapsing reality!"

Geralt's face fell. "What do you want me to say? Murder, a lot of murder? You don't get it Anakin…you're too innocent." He swayed, overcome by great sadness, and dropped down heavily to sit on the ground, as if the weight of the world were upon him. "The killing…it changes you. Takes something out of you. It never changes. They call me a Monster Hunter, but it's me….I'm the Monster."

"No…" Padme had seated herself next to him, empathically resting her heart shaped hand on his weathered shoulder, "You are a great man, Geralt. Obi Wan has frequently talked of you, and how you saved us all from the Pathological Harvester."

"He caused that himself," Obi-wan muttered, now filing his nails with his legs hovering a few hundred feet above the magma.

Geralt ignored him, staring only at Padme. His cat-like eyes softened immeasurably. "You…your words are kind. You remind me of someone…someone, long ago…Leslie!..." He cut himself off, a shadow of grief and of anger chasing the goodness from his face. "But no, that's in the past." Slowly, heavily, he stood. Suddenly, from his doublet, a thin piece of paper slipped out and fluttered to the floor like a fallen leaf, or a piece of the past.

Padme picked up the paper and saw it was a portrait of a young woman, with a heart-shaped face and green eyes twinkling from the… _bottom_ of her face? She looked up, her eyes welling with sympathetic tears of empathy. "Oh, Geralt…I didn't know."

Anakin seethed with jealousy, deep inside. Suddenly, there was a noticeable difference in Geralt's demeanor. He lifted his eyes, unintentionally meeting them with Padme's. As she touched his shoulder, he realized: She was an empath.

"You caused that yourself." Obi wan muttered, speaking to Geralt through his thoughts.

"I NEED HER." Without warning, a red, humming sword of light ignited and swept towards Geralt's attractive salt and pepper locks. Geralt cried out, his expert swiftness causing him to roll out of the way of danger. Padme shrieked as the lightsaber bit into the floor where Geralt had been, moments before.

"Darn kids," Obi-Wan muttered sadly and softly to himself, taking out a hologram of him and young Anakin. He stared at the holo, his mind racing. Then he blinked, struck by a massive revelation. He looked up at the hellscape of Mustafar's lava world. "I…I have…caused this myself, haven't I?" He said, in a feeble wisp of a voice.

Regardless of the Jedi-Master's earth-shattering self-revelation, the fight between Geralt and the fury-blinded person whose name was Anakin raged on.

"Young Anakin," Geralt spoke, "No one has attacked me and lived after. You think you know pain. Well… you're about to enter a world of hurt."

"Bring it on, old man." Anakin sneered pompously, "I'll have the high ground soon enou—" Sharply, such words were interrupted by the flash and dash of Geralt's dancing silver sabers, which twirled themselves towards the young Jedi, striking fear into his heart.

There was a single brilliant moment of impact as three sabers collided like a burst of lighting strokes fighting for the only tree available. Obi Wan stroked his beard collectively, seating himself next to an empathic Padme.

"They have done this themselves." Obi Wan observed, "Tis not our fault. But come, let's have some blue milk."

Padme turned concerned eyes on Obi-Wan for a moment. She wondered what was in the Blue Milk…whether it was the cause of all Obi-Wan's madness.

How long had he been alone?

Still clutching the painting of Leslie, Padme reared to her feet, holding the picture aloft like a proud flag of love. "Leslie wouldn't want this!" she shouted, her empathic powers carrying her voice like flower petals into the burning hearts of the two men. Geralt, clutching two lumps of molten silver, and Anakin with his lightsaber…both combatants turned as one to look at her. Eyes as yellow as saffron, and eyes as red as lava.

Shimmering with empathic energy, Padme softly moonwalked towards the two. She put her hands on their upper arms, uniting them in yet another unwelcome love-triangle. "Do not fight." She ordered, empathically searing them with wisdom, "Instead, Embrace Eternity, and understand how much you both have in common."

"I… we should be friends." Anakin muttered, "No one sees the world like we do, and only us two can make the world we see become a reality."

Geralt nodded slowly, feeling empathy surging him like static electricity, "You… you're right. We should be reinventing the wheel at this point…curing the common cold!"

"Then why don't you join forces and change the world." Padme smiled, hot tears oozing from her eyes

"We can do that ourselves." Obi-Wan finalized.

"Nobody invited you!" Anakin shouted harshly. Obi-Wan wilted.

Padme, empathic as always, leaned over to say, " _I_ invite you."

Obi-Wan beamed.

FINIS


End file.
